That Family Thing
by odyssey1
Summary: Something is wrong with Luke, slowly but surely preventing him from working fulltime at the diner. Now it's up to Lorelai to deal with a stubborn Luke, the meddling inhabitants of Stars Hollow and the return of the town delinquent, Jess. [JJ, Lit]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations from _Gilmore Girls_ are properties of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund/Polone in association with Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: **A great "Thank you!" goes out to **vakan **who was so kind and explain some formatting issues to me. I'm html-wise challenged, I'm afraid and deliriously happy now that I know how to add those pretty grey lines. Thanks :)

I'd also like to thank **avaleighfitzgerald**, my stunning and wonderful Beta-reader. Thank you so much for all the effort you put into this.

* * *

**PROLOGUE **

* * *

**Setting The Stage **

(Stars Hollow; two years after Rory's graduation from Yale)

* * *

**oOo**

Like most life-changing events this too, did not announce itself with a bang but crept up on him through the back door, unnoticed until it turned into a problem.

**oOo**

"I smell coffee," Lorelai said by way of a greeting and slumped down at her table. She held up her nose, closed her eyes in concentration and sniffed, nostrils flaring. "Luke!" she called, "I smell coffee and I really want to taste it, too, because I have a horrible day ahead of me with that ridiculous group of amateur actors coming to the Inn today and…."

She stopped abruptly when the desired beverage was set down in front of her, a delighted smile on her face as she took the first sip. "Aaaaah, you are a good man, Luke Danes," she declared in a regal tone. "My life saver. Provider of coffee. Purveyor of everything that is good and tasty and aren't you a bit quiet today?"

Luke, who'd been standing by her table wearing a long-suffering expression, shrugged. "Didn't have a chance to get a word in."

Lorelai huffed and automatically held out her already drained cup for a refill. "It's not like that ever kept you from making your opinion known before."

He shrugged again, looking a bit too disinterested for her taste and turned to leave.

"Luke."

He stopped without turning. "Hm?"

She held out the cup and gave it a little wave. "The coffee."

"Hm." Turning slowly, Luke returned and refilled the cup. "Happy now?" He turned to leave again, movements unconsciously slow and careful as if he'd taken a massive beating the evening before.

Lorelai frowned, all levity forgotten, and tilted her head to the side. Something was off and she was determined to find out what. "No, actually I'm not."

"Making sense, you mean?"

"Not happy," Lorelai clarified. "Come and sit with me for a moment."

Yet again, Luke turned around, a definite note of annoyance in his voice. "You do realize that I have other customers."

"Kirk can wait," she replied, ignoring the indignant huff of protest coming from the other man. "What's wrong?"

"You mean, other than the fact that you're keeping me from doing my job?"

Lorelai nodded. "Yep, apart from that."

Luke rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Nothing. I'm fine."

She scoffed, her curiosity – and more importantly her worry – piqued. Lorelai took a sip from her coffee without really tasting it before it hit her. "You've lost weight."

"Only so I can pursue my dream and become a top model."

"And you move like an old man," she continued her assessment without paying too much attention to his reply. "Where does it hurt?" she added in a softer voice, holding his gaze for a moment.

Lorelai knew she'd won when his shoulders slumped in defeat, a fact that satisfied and simultaneously unnerved her. Luke didn't give in that easily. Ever.

"The joints," he replied, equally softly. "It'll pass. It always does."

She opened her mouth to reply but never had the chance to make it that far as Luke suddenly turned deadly pale, a cold sheet of perspiration covering his forehead. Before she knew it, Lorelai was at his side, instinctively holding on to his arm and not letting go until he was safely seated, a glass of cold water in his hands and a curious mixture of a mutinous, yet uncharacteristically insecure expression on his face.

"You're just peachy, huh?" Lorelai asked, worry evident in her voice.

**oOo**

None of them ever noticed the broken can of coffee on the floor.

* * *


	2. Damage Control

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations from _Gilmore Girls_ are properties of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund/Polone in association with Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: **This is the point where I start gushing about my wonderful Beta-reader **avaleighfitzgerald**. Thank you so very, very much for your help. Also, nobody makes "idea-bouncing" as much fun as you do ;)

* * *

**Chapter 01**

* * *

**Damage Control **

* * *

**oOo**

"I want my pants."

"Ooooh." Lorelai grinned evilly as she peeked into the examination room that Luke had been brought to upon arriving at the hospital. "There are so many possible comebacks to this one that I –"

A stern look from the 'hapless patient' made her reconsider, so she merely settled for a wink. "I'm going to be my usual discreet self."

"Of course you will be." Luke didn't look convinced. "Now hand me my pants."

Smirking, she reached for the chair but froze in mid-movement as the door opened unexpectedly and a pale young man entered, looking far worse for wear than Luke did. "Ooh, look! The-" '_The morgue is doing_ _special deliveries today,__'_ Lorelai's mind supplied unhelpfully but thankfully years of practice enabled her to censor her mouth before that thought had a chance to slip out. "A visitor!" She said instead, a fake smile plastered on her face.

Said smile, Lorelai wondered, must have looked rather disturbing judging from Luke's frantic gestures behind the young man's back. However, the stranger whose name tag identified him as 'Dr. Martinek' seemed to be too far gone to notice. Perhaps she hadn't been that far off with her estimation, Lorelai thought with a frown, wondering how on earth a boy like that would be able to help Luke. He looked like he'd barely finished high school, much less medical school. Luke's thoughts, apparently, traveled along the same lines as he propped himself up on his elbows until he was in a sitting position.

That seemed to spur the young doctor into action as he shot forward with remarkable speed – Lorelai made a mental note to watch out for that in the future – and pushed Luke back into the pillows. "You need to rest," Martinek said sternly, struggling to keep a grumbling Luke to lie down.

"I need to get back to the diner," Luke growled and shoved Martinek's hand away before turning to Lorelai. "Pants."

With an annoyed huff the doctor retreated, silently asking himself why he hadn't listened to his mother and become a dentist. They clearly didn't pay him enough to put up with this. "Mrs. Danes," he turned to Lorelai, "Could you please be so kind as to restrain your husband."

Luke's jaw clenched and for a moment Lorelai could have sworn she saw the faintest hint of a blush staining his cheeks. Unbidden, a smile crept onto her face despite the dire situation they were in. "Restrain yourself, Muffin," she said in a deadpan voice that earned her a glare but did the job. "So what's the verdict, Doctor?"

Shooting Luke a skeptic look, Dr. Martinek consulted the patient's chart and turned to Lorelai who was clearly the sane one in their relationship. "Nothing definite, so far."

Lorelai frowned just as Luke sagged in relief. 'Nothing' meant that he could go home. Lorelai, however, seemed disinclined to agree. "_'__Nothing__'_Doctor," she observed, "Does not generally make people double over in pain."

Martinek nodded. "Which is why we need to run some more tests. We'll be doing a hemogram and an EKG for starters and see where that leads us. Until then all I can offer are guesses and one piece of advice." He gave Luke a stern look. "Rest."

Luke looked resigned. "Fine," he said, definitely annoyed now. He wasn't in pain anymore, so why was everyone making such a fuss about this? So what if he'd been in pain once? Or rather, he silently admitted, he'd been caught being in pain once as the other times he'd been alone. But it passed every time. There was no need for them to stick needles into him and there was no need for Lorelai to hide her worry behind a plethora of superficial jokes and pained smiles. Exchanging a look with her, Luke forced himself to calm down and nodded at her. "Serious. I'll be good." As long as I'm in here, he added silently before returning his attention to Dr. Martinek. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

**oOo**

In a matter of minutes a heavy-set nurse appeared, reminding Lorelai eerily of a walrus (complete with moustache), helped a vehemently-protesting Luke into a wheelchair and rolled him off before he could run away or cause too much trouble.

Which left Lorelai alone for the first time this morning.

Indulging some immature impulse she went for the chair Luke's clothes were slung over and reached for the well-known flannel-shirt. Now that there was no longer a need to put on a strong face she could feel the shock starting to shake her resolve and she unceremoniously slumped down on the bed, still clutching the shirt. 'Oh God', Lorelai though shakily, 'it even smells like him…there's a stain here from when he dropped the coffee pot this morning, oh God, was it really just this morning?'

Lorelai didn't notice she was crying until a teardrop fell on her fingers, making her wonder about the sudden wetness on her shaking hands. Unbidden, she felt a desperate longing to see Rory – the mere thought of her daughter serving to cheer her up. Her sweet, strong, successful daughter who was out there in the world making a name for herself.

The one reason Lorelai had always pulled herself together and achieved things she'd never even dared to dream about. Rory cared about Luke and Lorelai admitted, she did too – very much so, in fact – so for the sake of them she'd be strong. That's what she'd always done.

Swallowing her tears Lorelai reached for her cell phone. There were things to be settled, Sookie needed to know that she'd come in later today, she'd have to talk to Caesar to keep an eye on the diner and she needed to make arrangements for the coming days. Luke needed rest and his stubbornness be damned, Lorelai was going to make sure he'd get it.

Once the decision was made she immediately felt better. It was time for action now and when it came down to it – Lorelai Gilmore had always been surprisingly good at that. She switched the cell phone on and started dialing Sookie's number when someone suddenly cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid that's not allowed in hospitals." Dr. Martinek stood in front of her, looking younger and more tired than ever. "The cell phone. It interferes with cardiac pacemakers." He smiled and it was obvious that he did it out of genuine concern as opposed to politeness. "Among other things."

Lorelai nodded and switched it off, slightly embarrassed. She'd known that. Why hadn't she thought of it?

"Mrs. Danes?" Martinek interrupted her thoughts a second time as he slumped down on the chair that had previously been occupied by Luke's clothes. He looked like he was about to faint any moment and something told Lorelai that now wasn't the right moment to announce that she was not, in fact, 'Mrs.Danes' or even in a regular relationship with Luke. Instead, she merely gave Martinek a curious look, urging him to go on.

"You see," the young doctor said, running a hand through his messy hair, "When we search for a diagnosis, part of it relies on the tests and analyses while another – rather important, if not _the _most important part – is based on the patient's anamnesis. You see where I'm going with this?"

She didn't, so Martinek continued. "Mr. Danes strikes me as a very self-reliant and strong man and-" He hesitated, unsure how to put this. "Truth be told, I believe he makes his condition sound less severe than it is. True, that's admirable and brave, but it puts me into a very difficult position when I want to make a diagnosis. I _need _to take everything into account and I can't do that if he won't tell me everything. So," Martinek said, leaning forward. "Is this a frequent occurrence? The pain, I mean? If so, how often does it appear? Related to what? Where does it start? Does anything help and so on and so forth."

Lorelai nodded, the knots in her stomach getting tighter with each word Martinek told her. Yes, that did sound like Luke. He wouldn't admit when he was in pain and who could really tell how long this had been going on? It could have been weeks for all she knew! That man was too stubborn and, she silently admitted, brave – for his own good. "I don't know," she said quietly. "No one knew about this until today."

"That's what I thought."

"What can I do?"

Martinek sighed. "Talk to him. Make him realize that we need information if we are to make a solid diagnosis and that we can't treat the _cause _of this if we don't have a chance to find out what it is. And," he added with a wry smile, "Do make sure that he does get his rest. That man is working himself into an early grave."

Lorelai laughed bitterly. "Yes, he has a work ethic that's really quite…impressive."

"Make sure it's getting less impressive," Martinek suggested. "Surely there's someone who can help him with that diner he talked about. Perhaps a family member?"

Lorelai nodded, a plan forming in her head. "Yes. Yes, actually there is someone."

**oOo**

That 'someone' was currently doing his best not to leap over the desk and strangle his editor, despite the tentative friendship the two men shared.

"_Explosions?__"_ Jess Mariano asked in a deceivingly calm voice. "What do we need explosions for? Didn't I hear you say that the story has a solid plot and is – and here I'm quoting – 'on the verge of becoming a literary masterpiece'? Why the change of heart?"

Thomas D. Waller shrugged, his numerous chins wobbling at the motion. "Jess, this _is _a literary masterpiece but-"

Jess took a few steps back and raised his eyebrows in disbelief, his Italian ancestry prompting him to start gesticulating as words obviously failed him. "Then why..?"

Waller brushed back the few tufts of hair the fifty-odd years he'd inhabited this planet had left him with. "Because no one reads literature these days."

"Of course they do!" Jess protested vehemently, his arms barely missing an ugly statue that was perched precariously on Waller's desk.

"Name one person who does. Beside yourself."

_Rory Gilmore._ Jess opened his mouth then shut it again without saying a word. No. He didn't want to think about her. He couldn't.

Waller nodded, in apparent satisfaction. "That's what I thought." Then, unimpressed by Jess' glare, the editor continued. "Jess, what people want these days is blood, gore and a healthy dose of sex. And explosions."

Jess scoffed in disgust. "That hardly makes for a readable story, let alone one that's halfway decent!"

"It isn't," Waller agreed, feeling honestly sorry for his protégé who, despite his rough youth, seemed to have retained an idealism about writing he hadn't seen in far too long. "But it is what sells them and that's what we're doing, boy. We make books that will be sold. End of story."

"So you want me to write stories I don't believe in? Stories that – that are _hollow_ and meaningless and appease the masses?"

"Yes."

Jess visibly deflated and shook his head in defeat. "O.K." he said in a voice that betrayed no emotion and Waller could almost visibly witness the way the young man pulled up all these walls around his feelings the editor had spent so many hours tearing down. Waller pressed his lips together and nodded. "O.K." the older man echoed. "You'll do it then?"

Jess raised his head, meeting Waller's gaze evenly. "No."

"No?"

"No."

The editor threw his hands up in frustration. "_Why_ not?"

"Because I will not prostitute my stories." Jess replied fiercely and Waller rolled his eyes. Trust Jess to come up with a lyrical expression even in situations like this. That, Waller reflected, was the problem with Jess. The young man wasn't a good writer. He was an _excellent _writer whose stories held a kind of passion and raw honesty Waller had seen far too seldom but – and he knew that as a fact – people did not want to read this.

"Jess," he tried again. "Reconsider. Write a few novels that sell well – and we both know you can do it – and then you can go back to creating real literature." He raised his hands. "That's all I can offer."

"O.K." Waller could see another wall go up as Jess grew more monosyllabic by the second.

"O.K. _what, _Jess?"

Jess shrugged. "O.K. I reconsidered. I'm still not changing my stories."

"Then there's nothing I can do for you."

"Huh."

And another wall. Fort Knox had nothing on this boy, Waller thought with growing frustration. "Call me if you change your mind."

Jess' face didn't betray an emotion. "Sure." Which, as they both knew, probably meant that Waller would never see him again.

"Good luck," the editor whispered as the young man turned around, walking out into an unknown future. "You're going to need it."

* * *


	3. Communication And The Lack Thereof

**Disclaime****r:** All characters and situations from _Gilmore Girls_ are properties of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund/Polone in association with Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: **First of all a big great thank you to all my reviewers. You cannot imagine how much I appreciate each and every one of your comments. It really makes my day to read them and know that – hey! Someone out there reads this and finds it tolerable. Not to mention that it's incredibly inspiring, too ;)

**A Special Thank You: **To the wonderful **avaleighfitzgerald**, my lovely Beta-Reader. She makes sure that this story makes sense, important little details aren't neglected and that I don't go too crazy with those pesky commas.

It's a joy to work with you and thank you so much for your help:)

* * *

**Chapter ****02**

* * *

**Communication And The Lack Thereof **

* * *

_RORY: There's no guy!  
LORELAI: Dark hair, romantic eyes? Looks a little dangerous?_

_RORY: This conversation is over.  
LORELAI: Tattoos are good too!-- _Gilmore Girls; Pilot episode

* * *

**oOo**

Stars Hollow had a long and proud tradition of miscommunication, reaching back to its founding days in the 18th century when the ladies first met on the marketplace for some healthy gossip.

The following centuries had brought little change – neither in the technique of miscommunication, nor in the choice of topics.

As it was, on that particular morning when Luke was fetched by the ambulance (which was, as many eyewitnesses would tell again and again the following days, left in the dust of Miss Lorelai Gilmore's car as the crazy woman drove even faster than said ambulance and thus made sure in her own effective way that no one dared to hinder the ambulance on its way to the hospital) Kirk found himself in a prime position which would secure him the center of attention for days. Having witnessed the whole commotion from his table it was he who gave the first recollection of the story to the morning-customers. From that source the news spread out like wildfire as Babette whose anger over being withheld Luke's famous pancakes was quickly mollified by that juicy piece of gossip, told Miss Patty who told her new beau, a man of dubious yet doubtlessly romantic origins, who told Taylor who told Jackson who told Mrs. Kim who told Lane.

Due to this diligent work the good citizens of Stars Hollow were in a state of extreme agitation by eleven o'clock and by twelve o'clock one could spot the first batch of flowers being laid down at the door of the diner (which led to another near fiasco as Caesar turned out to be allergic).

Finally, at a quarter past twelve, the good people of Stars Hollow were more or less convinced that Luke's demise would not take place in the next twenty-four hours (a fact emphasized beautifully by the way Luke bodily threw Taylor out of the diner after the other man inquired about buying the diner since Luke – bless his soul – would not be among them for too long, anyway). Simultaneously a very frazzled-looking Lorelai stormed into the _Dragonfly Inn_, shouted a few hasty instructions and then dove for the telephone to call New York.

And finally, at exactly twenty-seven past twelve Lane picked up her phone and called on an old friend.

**oOo**

"Gilmore."

Lane's eyebrow rose. That was quick. Rory usually didn't respond until way after the sixth or seventh ring but today she seemed to have met her friend in a good mood. "Hey, Rory. It's me, it's-"

"Lane!" Rory chirped, evidently delighted. ""How did you know I wanted to call you? It's been two weeks without a word and just a moment ago I told myself 'go call Lane and tell her the news' and then you called. It's fate, it's a higher purpose, it's Babette's uncanny ability to read her cards that I've finally gotten you the CD's you were looking for."

Lane's eyebrow rose a notch higher. She hadn't heard Rory that happy in weeks and though the mention of the CDs managed to distract her for a moment, the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach remained. She needed to tell Rory. "Listen Rory," Lane started but was interrupted by a sudden outbreak of noise in the background, followed by Rory's stern voice.

"Sorry Lane, everyone's complete crazy today. Hang on a second I'll get to a quieter place."

No sooner had she uttered those words when the noise momentarily got louder, then suddenly everything was quiet and Rory was back on the phone. "Are you in your office?" Lane asked curiously.

"Girl's toilets," Rory responded dryly and Lane could almost see the impish smirk on the other woman's face. "So, I trust Babette didn't read about the CDs on the cards, so what do I owe the honor of your call?"

Lane's face fell and she took a deep steadying breath. "It's about…something happened. To someone."

Complete silence followed that statement and Lane almost felt inclined to inquire if Rory was still on the line when she heard the whisper. "Mom? Is…is she? Did…"

"No," Lane was quick to reassure her friend. "No, she's fine. Well, not _fine _as she's involved somehow but then again everyone is involved somehow and-"

"Lane." The interruption came brusquely. "The facts." And there it was, Lane thought, torn between bewilderment and admiration. As soon as her initial fears about her mother were laid to rest Rory slipped into her 'professional' persona. She was no longer the sweet, shy girl she had been when she left for Yale. No, this Rory – the Rory that allowed herself to emerge in the past two years – was a young woman who made it through an elite university with no other backup but her skills and intelligence. Who had been broken but got up again.

Lane took another breath. "Yes, sorry. It's Luke."

A sharp intake of breath on the other line and Lane winced in sympathy. She knew very well how much Rory cared for him and, being one of Rory's oldest friends she also knew that beneath the professionalism Rory still retained her great capacity to care.

"What happened? When? Where?" The questions came quickly and methodically though Rory's voice was shaking ever so slightly.

"The diner. Luke had something like a stroke this morning," At least that's what the latest rumors said, Lane added silently. "He spent the day in the hospital."

More silence. Then a sigh. "That makes no sense. He lives far too healthy and he's not a risk patient." Obviously Rory's mind still worked perfectly well though her voice got closer to breaking with each word as her feelings caught up with her brains. "Lane?" she finally asked voice hoarse with emotion. "I've got a few last minute things to settle here and then I'll be there by tomorrow morning."

Lane's jaw dropped. "That's not necessary," she was quick to reassure her friend. "It's not like you can do anything to change his condition."

"No, I can't," Rory admitted with a sigh. "But I can be there. Sometimes that's all that matters."

Lane had no choice but to agree with that. However, as she put down the phone she wondered. What had she just unwittingly set into motion?

**oOo**

Lorelai rubbed her arms, feeling chilly despite the warm evening. Following the eventful morning the day had passed in a daze, waiting for Luke to return from the examinations, driving him to the diner, keeping him from beating up Taylor and – after much pleading, discussing and in the end shameless bribery – eliciting the promise from that stubborn man that he'd take it slow tomorrow, allowing Caesar to open the diner and sleeping in for once. Just to make sure Lorelai instructed Caesar to slip some powdered sleeping pills into Luke's herbal tea. Lorelai was determined to make him rest and she was determined to see him back to his usual grumpy yet healthy self. Rather sooner than later - which led her to the second part of her plan.

Taking a sip of coffee she'd taken out with her on the veranda, Lorelai once again shook her head, unsure if she was about to go crazy or perhaps just take a little tumble into the hysterical. She _must _be crazy, Lorelai reasoned, if she turned to Jess (but seriously, what good would Liz or T.J. do in such a situation?).

Curiously enough, she thought while her gaze wandered over to the chuppah Luke built her all those years ago (her stomach gave a funny jolt when she looked at it), Jess hadn't put up nearly as much of a fight as she's expected. In fact, he'd taken the news stoically responding merely with his monosyllabic mixture of grunts, "Huh's" and the occasional disinterested "O.K.".

Goodness, there were times Lorelai was convinced the boy wasn't capable of forming words consisting of more than one syllable (though she knew full well that he was, apparently, able to _write _words up to at least six syllables. Who was supposed to understand that, anyway?).

Speaking, or rather thinking, of the devil it was that exact moment when the assembly of rust Jess liked to call his car rolled into view, coming to a halt with a stuttering sound that might as well have been its last breath.

Instinctively, Lorelai's eyes narrowed. It didn't matter that he had 'changed' as everyone was so fond of telling her – all she saw when her gaze found Jess' slim figure as he climbed out of his car was the boy who'd hurt her daughter. Twice.

Time had been good to him, Lorelai decided and her mood did a turn for the worse. Neither did he have the beer belly she'd secretly been hoping for nor was his hair greasy or did he look in any kind neglected. He'd grown out his hair a little so that dark brown bangs hung into his eyes being brushed back impatiently every now and then and his eyes seemed a little softer these days.

Alarm bells went off in Lorelai's head and she put down the cup of coffee which was cold by now anyway. 'So we're going with the 'tortured artist'-look these days?' she thought, unable to keep her protective instincts from going into over-drive whenever Jess was around. 'Pretty dark hair, romantic eyes,' she scoffed, seeing right through his disguise. "I bet you have a tattoo," she remarked as if continuing a conversation they'd interrupted earlier.

Jess froze and tilted his head to one side. "Good evening to you, too."

"Come on, now. No tattoo? Nowhere on your body?" Lorelai pressed on, happily latching on something on a topic of conversation that would put the inevitable conversation about Luke's health off.

"Nowhere next to my body either," Jess replied dryly, a dark eyebrow rising.

"Just checking."

He shrugged and made an incomprehensible noise that immediately reminded Lorelai of the teenager he'd been. Same defensive mechanisms. She'd _known _he hadn't changed! Why had she even called him? How was a self-centered brat supposed to help? He was bound to make off with the cash register as soon as everyone's back was turned. _And _he'd find a way to hurt Rory again.

Lorelai rubbed her arms again, somewhere in the back of her mind realizing that she was being unfair and childish but she couldn't help herself. Rory had been hurt by far too many men and somehow – even though Lorelai rationally knew that others had hurt Rory more than Jess had – she still blamed him. Problems started the moment Jess Mariano stepped into their lives. Or rather, a small voice reminded her, when Jess left their lives.

However, Lorelai didn't have too much time to dwell on her thoughts as Jess' unwelcome (as well as curiously welcome) voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Did you call me just so we can stand on the porch and glare at each other?" He flicked back a stray strand of hair that immediately fell into his eyes again. "Because personally, I have an uncle to worry about and would rather not waste my time here."

'Oh, charming,' Lorelai thought, picked up her coffee cup wordlessly and gestured for him to follow her into the house, knowing full well how much that treatment must annoy him.

Indeed, Jess looked rather ill-tempered as he followed her into the kitchen. Lorelai smirked, irrationally pleased about her small childish triumph before her worry about Luke overshadowed that fleeting feeling. Having Jess here in her kitchen made it all so much more real. She could no longer tell herself that everything would be fine in the morning because the mere fact that she, no Luke, needed Jess' help made it all so terribly, frighteningly real. "Sit down," she said, her voice sounding tired and strained in her own ears. "Coffee?"

Jess nodded and slumped down at the table, silently accepting the drink with the greedy eyes of an addict. 'Ah,' Lorelai thought with a sad smile, 'You're one of us, aren't you?'

"So." He finally said. "Luke."

"Yes."

They remained silent for a moment, curiously united in their genuine worry for a man who'd become more important to them than either would like to admit.

"What-?"

"You see,-" They started simultaneously then stopped. "You first," Lorelai said.

"What happened?" Jess asked in a small voice, looking very young for a moment and – damn her motherly instincts! – Lorelai almost reached out and brushed those bangs away from his eyes. Instead, she found herself giving Jess a sad smile. "Would you like me to get you a hairclip?"

Jess, used to her oddities by now, didn't bat an eye. "Lorelai."

She sighed. There really was no other way of avoiding the subject of Luke and the painful knot in her stomach the thought of him prompted lately. Except, of course, talking about Rory but she doubted that either of them was quite ready to have a conversation about her without resulting in some terrible bloodshed. "So, Luke," she said and inhaled the delicious scent of her coffee without really savoring it. "He had some sort of – I don't know what it was, actually but suddenly he was in pain. He'd been moving so stiffly that morning and he's so incredibly passive and not as grumpy as usual, I mean he is but not naturally grumpy."

It felt like a floodgate had been opened and before either of them knew what happened their coffee cups had been refilled three times and two hours had passed by.

* * *

**Preview: **Expect the next installment next week.

There Lorelai continues to "help", Luke is being uncooperative and Rory and Jess meet for the first time since her graduation. Except that things don't go according to plan for them. At all.


	4. Hey, Mr Turpentine Man

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations from _Gilmore Girls_ are properties of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund/Polone in association with Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended.

**A/N:**I can honestly say that the wonderful response I got for the last chapter swept me off my feet (so it was a good thing I was sitting down when I saw all those amazing reviews). I'm so incredibly grateful for all the support and kind words you're written that once again words fail me. You're absolutely stunning and I thank you all so much. As usual **a special Thank You **belongs to **avaleighfitzgerald **the most wonderful Beta-Reader I could ever hope for. You inspired the Rory meets Jess-scene did you know that? In fact, you inspired so much more, too and I cannot even begin to thank you enough. You're great :)

* * *

**Chapter ****03 **

* * *

**Hey, Mr. Turpentine Man, S****ing A Song For Me **

* * *

"_It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." _

-- The Fellowship Of The Ring by JRR Tolkien.

* * *

**oOo**

Overall, Rory figured, she was in luck. She had an exclusive – though limited – access to the genetic material of Miss Lorelai Gilmore the Second – a fact that put a multitude of traits and characteristics at her disposal. In exemplum, one of those often cherished and envied traits was the ability to shove stupendous amounts of food into her tiny body and never put on weight.

Rory, determined to show her appreciation to both Mother Nature and Lorelai, used said ability to its fullest extent as she did with her habit of drinking coffee at any given time of the day (or night) without suffering side-effects of any kind, a skill that had dazzled many a colleague on numerous occasions.

Furthermore Lorelai and Rory shared identical earlobes and the same eccentric taste in clothes and alarm clocks, a fact that led Rory to many ill-fated purchases (the most recent of those – a "Lovely Kitty" alarm clock that meowed – being hastily discarded again after the lovesick cats of her neighborhood had taken to gather underneath her bedroom window and serenade the clock for three nights in a row. She was making much better experiences with her "Chuckling Chicken" alarm clock).

However, it was the combination of a very different set of traits of character she'd inherited from Lorelai, namely her stubbornness and lack of orientation that put Rory into the situation she currently found herself in. Said situation included Rory, her car, an outdated map and the middle of nowhere which – inconveniently – was quite a distance away from Stars Hollow.

"Certe, toto, sentio nos in kansate iam adesse," Rory remarked thoughtfully, stopped the car at the side of a road that looked like it was last used in 1950 and turned off the radio. In fact, she figured, it was the radio that got her into this mess in the first place. Why did they have to insist on playing the Best of the Bangles marathon just when she was about to drive home to Stars Hollow? And why did that stupid woman from the navigation system of hers have to speak up during the best parts? Wasn't it only natural for her to turn off that aggravating thing in order to listen to the music?

Rory sighed, took a sip from her water bottle and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear while contemplating her situation. Fact was that she had no clue where she was. Fact was that she did have a navigation system at her disposal – even though the woman's sultry voice annoyed her. Fact was also that she needed to get to Stars Hollow as quickly as possible.

Rory sat motionlessly for a moment, a solitary drop of sweat making its way down from the damp hair at the back of her neck to the collar of her shirt.

She loved driving – there was no denying that. She loved the freedom it represented, the fact that each step out of the door was the possible beginning of a journey with uncertain ending as Bilbo the Hobbit put it nearly half a century ago. She loved the way how that sense of freedom was not only restricted to a physical sense but also applied to her state of mind. It felt as if every time Rory stepped into her car and drove off she left more behind than just her flat and work. She left a plethora of restrictions behind and suddenly her thoughts were free to roam, to dream and more often than not she reached the most surprising – and yet sensible – conclusions.

Today, however, was different. Today thinking led to worrying about Luke and how his well-being would affect her mother. Because Rory knew for a fact that it affected Lorelai. The affection and yes - even love - Luke and Lorelai shared was painfully obvious to anyone but themselves and it was nothing but their stubborn pride or stupidity or whatnot that kept them from each other. Rory huffed in indignation and took another sip of water.

That little dance they did – one step closer, two steps back – was coming to an end. Rory had always known that it couldn't go on like that forever and no matter how often she'd urged, nudged or pushed her mother to tell him how she felt, Lorelai always found a way to change the topic or hide behind a smile and a joke, retreating before risking another heart-break from the man everyone knew to be the infamous "one" in her life. And now, Rory thought with a sigh, now it looked like life decided to take the decision into its own hands by threatening to remove one player. And if that happened, Rory thought with a shudder, if anything at all happened to Luke the hit would fell Lorelai as well.

Rory blinked; a look at her watch telling her that she'd been staring straight ahead for full ten minutes and resolutely pushed the hair out of her face. She was going back to Stars Hollow, the petite woman decided with fierce determination, and she was going to make things all right again. 'Life,' she thought with a grim smile, 'If you think you can make my mom unhappy then I've got a little surprise for you.'

Pressing her lips into a thin line of determination Rory turned on her navigations system and typed in her destination, drumming her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

"Please turn left-" The woman's voice purred almost immediately, eliciting a dark look from Rory.

"There's a tree on the left, you stupid cow."

The woman apparently wasn't impressed. "Please turn left at the next possible opportunity."

Rory rolled her eyes. "I heard you the first time."

"Please turn left at the next possible opportunity."

Rory sighed in resignation. It was going to be a long drive home.

**oOo**

At this exact moment the last customer left Luke's diner and Luke himself, thoroughly fed up of satisfying the morbid curiosity of the townspeople any longer decided to call it a night and close the diner early.

Within a matter of minutes the "closed" sign was hung up at the front door, a quick version of the usual clean-up routine was performed (he could do the rest tomorrow. It had been a long day) and the diner was locked up which left Luke at the liberty to tiredly trudge up the staircase, take off his baseball-cap and sink into the soft material of his favorite – and only – armchair.

He closed his eyes for a moment and a wave of sleepiness washed over him. Luke leaned back and relished the divine feeling of doing nothing as his heavy limbs seemed to sink deeper into the cushions. Allowing himself the first genuine smile of the day he toed off his boots and kicked them away, not caring where they landed or what they hit while doing so. There was no one around to complain anyway, he thought, and for a moment that concept filled him with a fleeting sense of sadness before his usual excuses flooded his mind. 'You cherish your freedom' Luke reminded himself. 'You're a lone wolf. A real man.'

A lonely man, Luke admitted in a moment of weakness and before the thought reached his consciousness he'd already stretched out his arm to get the telephone. He wanted – correction, he _needed _– to hear _her_ voice. He –

Wait. He _did_ hear her voice. Just now! 

Luke blinked in confusion and stared at the receiver in his hand. He hadn't dialed yet. There was no way he could possibly hear Lorelai. Unless it was in his head and he was going insane. Was he going insane? It ran in families, he'd read and Liz hadn't ever been a poster girl for sanity – and, truth be told, neither had his father – but none of them ever heard voices that he knew of.

"Luke!" 

There it was again. She was calling him. He gave bitter laugh. 'Subconscious wish fulfillment, eh?' He'd read that term in one of Jess' books that the boy used to leave laying around back _then. _Back when he'd still had a chance with Lorelai. Oh, there was her voice again, Luke realized and, with a lopsided smile, thought that of all the voices he could be hearing Lorelai's wouldn't be the last on his list.

"Luke!" More fiercely this time Luke noted drowsily as his eyes started to droop. "Luke Danes! Open the door. I _know _you're there!" Yep, he did know that, too. "I can hear your disapproval!" Lorelai's voice persisted and he smiled before another call jolted him awake.

"LUKE!" 

He groaned and glared at the door. Why was the door talking to him with Lorelai's voice? Why did his brain feel so weird? As if it was filled with cotton candy…

"Come on already, I'm wearing high heels and my feet hurt and it won't kill you to open the damn door so I can talk to you and goodness! Just how much sleeping powder did Caesar put into your tea?"

Luke's eyes snapped open abruptly. Sleeping powder? _Sleeping powder in _his_ tea? _

A wave of indignation hit him and he pushed himself out of the armchair in one fluid motion. "Lorelai!" he called, completely awake now and trembling with righteous anger.

"I _knew _it!" Came the triumphant reply from the door and Luke glared. She'd tampered with his tea! Of course it must have been her idea as Caesar wouldn't even dream of doing such a thing on his own! Luke arranged his face into an expression that combined indignation, disappointment, mild anger and a hint of a pout with a skill Luke was secretly proud of. However, before he had a chance to display this masterpiece of his mimic several things happened in quick succession.

Luke took a step forward when suddenly a jolt of white-hot pain shot up from his foot to his leg and he heard a dull thudding sound, followed by a moan of pain and Lorelai's frantic voice. By the time Luke realized that the pained moans were coming from him and that he was lying on the floor (when did he fall?) he thought he heard a second voice mingling with Lorelai's but with the background noise of his moans – which had died down to low gasps of pain by now – and Lorelai throwing her body against the door he couldn't be too sure.

Why didn't she just come in? Luke asked himself through the daze of his pain before it hit him. It was locked.

Groaning, Luke pushed himself up into a sitting position, glad to realize that the pain subsided quickly. He was about to gather his strength to stand up when the door suddenly opened with a crash and before he could react Luke found his arms full of Miss Lorelai Gilmore who crushed him in an embrace that nearly sent both of them tumbling to the floor again.

Luke would have been perfectly content to spend eternity right there in this moment of perfection when this all-too-brief respite from reality was interrupted by the clearing of a throat. The clearing of a _male _throat.

Luke reluctantly loosened his embrace and looked up, only to receive another surprise.

"Jess?" he asked, surprised at the amount of genuine affection in his voice.

"Hey," Jess smiled, though the gesture didn't reach his eyes which were still wide and fearful – just like they'd been when Jess crashed Rory's car all those years ago, Luke recalled with a bittersweet feeling.

"Aren't you supposed to be in hospital?" The younger man asked and started a vain attempt to push his bangs behind his ear.

"Long story. Aren't _you _supposed to be in Philly?"

"Long story," Jess grinned. "And it's New York again."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Even longer story," Jess admitted. "Last fall."

Luke opened his mouth to reply but Lorelai beat him to it. "Aren't _we _supposed to stand up at some point?"

Luke flushed and shot Jess, who was wearing an expression of extreme amusement, a dirty look and whatever it was that Jess was about to say, Luke's infamous "You're not too old to spank"-Look worked and his nephew wisely kept his mouth shut.

Luke huffed as his vanity was satisfied and clumsily got up, bumping heads with Lorelai in the process and shooting Jess another glare as the younger man barely managed to stifle a snort of laughter.

"What do you want, Jess?" Luke asked and picked up his baseball cap.

"World peace." Came the immediate answer, followed by a fleeting, yet annoyingly impertinent grin. "But for tonight I'd settle for some answers."

Trying to change the subject, Luke turned to face Lorelai who was investigating the contents of his refrigerator (so that he was left with no other choice but to talk to her backside). "How did you get in, anyway? You didn't have a key."

"Jess picked the lock," Lorelai answered from the depths of his fridge, apparently not finding what she was looking for but – being the optimist that she was, unwilling to give up.

Luke's eyebrows rose so high that they almost touched his hairline at that particular bit of information. "You picked the lock?"

"I picked the lock."

"I don't want to know where you learned that." Luke put his baseball cap back on and went back to watching Lorelai's expedition while Jess merely shrugged and started clearing a small spot on his old bed by pushing away a generous amount of old tools, clothes, a shoe and various other rubbish Luke had accumulated there.

Shrugging the very same way Jess did, Luke finally wasn't able to contain his curiosity any longer and peered over Lorelai's shoulder. "Did you find China yet?" he asked into her ear and for the barest hint he could have sworn he'd heard her catch her breath. Then again, it could have been the chill that made her gasp and her cheeks flush. His own breath hitched and time stood still as Luke lost himself in the endless depths of Lorelai's eyes. She parted her lips and he held his breath, the last little clouds of frozen breath melting together and vanishing in the warmer air of the room.

"Luke," she breathed; her voice husky and a voice in the back of his head firmly told him to damn the consequences and close the distance between their mouths. Just a tiny little bit-

**oOo**

"What the – OW!" 

A sudden crash, followed by a yelp of pain shattered the moment and Lorelai retreated. Again, Luke thought bitterly before whirling around to face the source of the interruption, his earlier pain and discomfort long forgotten.

"Jess, why do you break everything you touch?" Luke asked, unable to keep the smile out of his words at the picture that presented itself, namely: Mr. Jess Mariano, the late terror of Stars Hollow and (in)famous author, sitting on a broken bed, half-covered by screws, feathers from a ripped pillow, Luke's old socks and a shoe.

"Very. Funny." Jess pouted and attempted to stand up with as much dignity as possible. Fate, however, had other plans and to Luke and Lorelai's extreme amusement (and Jess' utter mortification) the young man slipped on Luke's oldest baseball cap, lost his footing and promptly stumbled back onto the bed, breaking the small amount of it he hadn't managed to destroy so far.

Removing a couple of feathers from his hair Jess shot them a look of wounded pride. "Don't say a word."

"But Jess, you-", Lorelai started but was interrupted by him.

"No."

"Jess, seriously now, you should-", Luke tried but suffered the same treatment.

"No! What's so difficult to understand about-", Jess replied hotly before a canister toppled and his leg was suddenly drenched in a stinking liquid. Luke smirked.

"I said 'You should get out of the way as the turpentine is about to fall on you.'"

"Thanks, Uncle Luke."

"You're welcome."

Lorelai, who'd been longing for a chance to release some pent up tension that accumulated since learning of Luke's condition started, pressed her hands to her mouth to keep herself from laughing out loud at Jess' mutinous expression. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter while tears of mirth rolled down her cheeks until, in an unguarded moment, she made eye-contact with Luke and both broke into fits laughter until Jess, still sitting in the epicenter of the wreckage, threw a turpentine-soaked pillow at Luke that missed the older man by a long shot.

Lorelai sat down, wiping away some tears and shook her head. This had been the most surreal day of her life and goodness knew – she was an expert at experiencing surreal days. Shaking her head she turned her attention back to the men who were bickering like an old married couple and for a moment she was surprised by the subtle similarities between them – the way they emphasized important points with the wave of their hands, the way they stuck their chins up defiantly or the way their whole monosyllabic demeanor changed once they felt at ease. Perhaps, for Luke, Jess would pull himself together and take charge of the diner for a while, Lorelai pondered as her thoughts grew more somber again.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "Boys? I hate to interrupt your moment of male bonding but we need to talk."

"We _are _talking," Luke said. "Our lips are moving."

"Words are leaving our mouths," Jess added innocently.

"Forming sentences, even," Luke concluded, earning an impatient grimace from Lorelai.

"Too bad neither of you is making too much sense, then," she remarked with a grin. "Still, that's not why we came here tonight. We need to talk about Luke's condition and the way things will go – oh _goodness! _Jess, you _reek._"

"Don't sniff me, then," he snapped.

"You're making it hard to evade the stench, Mr. Turpentine Man."

"Geez," Jess retorted, "And here I thought the smell of turpentine turns women on."

At that moment Luke felt it was his duty to interfere. "There will be no turning on of women in general and Lorelai in particular unless it's done by me. Is that clear?"

Ringing silence followed that statement and, after a beat, Luke cleared his throat. "So, Jess, where will you be staying?"

Lorelai and Jess stared wordlessly at the ruined bed until Lorelai grinned. "How much does the stench of turpentine turn you on, Jess?"

His eyes went wide and he fixed Luke with a look of deepest despair. 'Save me, Uncle Luke!' His innocent, chocolate brown eyes seemed to plead and Luke felt his resolve crumble. Damn the brat for having a look like a kicked puppy!

Lorelai, however, seemed to think along the same lines and shook her head. "Jess, you moron, you can stay at my house until you find a place."

"Thanks," he breathed, now fixing the full force of his pleading eyes on Lorelai who, having years of experience with Rory's baby blues, wasn't affected.

"I said _you _can stay at my house," she clarified. "This invitation does not extend to your trousers."

Both Danes men gaped at her for a moment, in a look of identical astonishment that – in Luke's case - was quickly exchanged for an expression of devious amusement as the older man caught on.

"Can I borrow-?" Jess started but was interrupted by Luke.

"Nope. Sorry."

"And what do you expect me to do?" Jess asked, torn between morbid fascination and annoyance while Lorelai merely shrugged.

"Get to my house, take _your _car, of course, get rid of the trousers and then you can stay there."

"I see," Jess said, obviously debating her sanity while Luke closed the distance between them and jovially patted his nephew's back.

"Off you go then."

"You can find a spare key under the ceramic turtle," Lorelai informed him as he sloshed toward the door. "In case you need it."

Jess nodded mutely, unwilling to risk his sleeping-place with any of the scathing remarks that were on the tip of his tongue. "And you?" he asked Lorelai.

"Will be staying with Luke a little longer."

"O.K." He nodded again and opened the door, ready to leave. "Night."

However, just as Jess was about to step out of the flat Lorelai's voice called him back a final time. "Jess? Make sure Babette doesn't catch you with your pants down."

He gave both Lorelai and Luke an offended glare before closing the door and sloshing down the staircase, leaving little puddles of turpentine on the stairs while trying to block out the laughter coming from the flat above.

They were mental. This whole town was completely insane.

**oOo**

The detour to the middle of nowhere had cost Rory a solid two hours and by the time she arrived home the young woman was utterly exhausted, annoyed and – most dangerously - under-caffeinated.

Deciding that it couldn't hurt anyone to leave her bags in the car for one night, or rather morning as the sun was starting to rise, Rory merely slammed the door shut and trudged across the veranda, longing for an infusion of caffeine, a long hot shower and her bed. She was not yet sure in which order.

Rory stretched her arms wide over her head and yawned heartily before entering the house, hardly noticing the trousers hanging outside over the veranda (though the smell did catch her attention for the fraction of a moment). Once inside her gaze was automatically attracted by the coffee machine and the pair of unwashed coffee cups in the sink. 'Ah,' she thought drowsily, 'Mom must have had a long night.'

"Mom?" she yelled but the only answer she got was the solemn ticking of the clock and the steady dripping sound coming from the sink.

Rory reached up took out her hair clasp, then turned off the faucet. Apparently Lorelai had already left for work which made sense, Rory figured, as a lot of work must have remained undone after spending half the day at the hospital with Luke (for Rory had no doubt that her mother had remained at Luke's side the whole time). Yawning once more Rory went on into the living room clumsily discarding her shoes and socks along the way. Blinking tiredly she noticed how little had changed in the time she'd been away: the monkey-lamp, the pink fluffy cushions on the couch, the old-fashioned telephone – everything remained just the same as she remembered it. She smiled and took off her sweater, flinging the offending piece of clothing into a corner before she decided to clean up later when she was more awake. A lot more awake.

Absentmindedly Rory's gaze swept over the coffee-table and the laptop and the dozens of papers that seemed to have been strewn across it and she sighed. It looked like someone had a _really _long night of research behind them and Rory silently resolved to get mother something nice for her troubles. Later.

Unable to suppress another yawn the young woman make the straining journey past the living room and, using the last ounce of her strength to make it to her room.

**oOo**

Later Rory would freely admit that she'd expected the room to be messy and filled with memories. She'd expected some of her pillows to be missing after Lorelai abducted them to her own bed. In a way she'd even expected to find that book she'd been looking for all over her flat sitting innocently on her desk in Stars Hollow.

However, what she did not expect was the fact that her bed was already occupied.

Rory let out a strangled gasp and stumbled back a few steps, narrowly avoiding a collision with her paper bin which nevertheless fell to the floor with an amount of noise that was sure to wake the dead. Rory froze, her eyes fixed on the form in her bed. She couldn't recognize him – for this was clearly a man judging from the shape of that one leg and the definitely masculine arm that was slung across a pillow.

Curious despite her better intentions she went back to the bed and the obliviously snoring person that occupied it. Arming herself with _The Complete Short Stories of Hemingway_ and a steely resolution Rory leaned closer, her hair falling over her shoulder in an unguarded moment and momentarily touching the sleeping man's arm. He gave a protesting grumble and turned around, his slumbering face coming nose to nose with Rory who gave the second gasp of the morning.

"Jess!"

* * *

**A/N: **Certe, toto, sention nos in kansate iam adesse. – You know, Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore. Source: (Handy Latin Phrases)

**Preview: **We're getting closer to the diagnosis, Luke experiences more symptoms and the good people of Stars Hollow experience the return of Jess and at least one of them refers to him as "Rory's Latin Lover".


	5. Mischief Of The Mayonnaise Kind

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations from _Gilmore Girls_ are properties of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund/Polone in association with Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended.

**A/N:**Once again I'd like to thank everyone who took the time review both this story as well as "**He said, She said". **Once I get an epiphany and figure out how to do the whole replying-thing for your reviews I'll start answering you, too.

Seriously now, you have no idea how much that feedback means to me. Thank you all so very, very much and most of all **avaleighfitzgerald **my wonderful, incomparable Beta-Reader without whom all of this would sound way more…let's say it would be less readable than it is now, ok? ;)

* * *

**Chapter ****04 **

* * *

**Mischief Of The Mayonnaise Kind **

* * *

_RORY: Yeah, well I've always thought 'easy' is completely overrated.  
LORELAI: Oh, that's my twisted girl_. – Gilmore Girls; Concert Interruptus 1st season.

* * *

**oOo**

If there was one thing that the Danes men agreed on – even back when Jess had been too small to form opinions of any kind – it was the fact that they hated hospitals with a passion. The combination of cold white (or light blue-green) walls, adorned with various posters reminding the passer-by to get their vaccines or donate blood, the smell of disinfectant, stale air and illness or even just the tired, disillusioned looks on the faces of the over-worked nurses – it all did its share to make a stay at the hospital akin to a trip to hell. Or purgatory at least Jess figured, fixing his eyes on the pale man occupying the bed.

Somehow, in the matter of days that ominous illness had reduced his uncle to a mere shadow of his former self. Gone were the energetic movements, the impatient pacing and the lively expression in the older man's eyes.

Instead, Jess noticed, instead Luke's eyes were dull, the pain killers his uncle was forced to take slowly leeching away the older man's personality, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell. A pale remembrance of the man Luke used to be.

Jess opened his mouth to speak but suddenly found his throat constricted and his vision blurring as he regarded Luke's broken form. He cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water before trying to speak again. "You should drink a bit," he whispered, unconsciously adapting his voice to the miserable atmosphere. "You'll feel better then."

"No," a cool voice interrupted him and Jess involuntarily flinched. "No, he won't."

A man clad in a long, white lab-coat emerged from the shadows and pointed a skeletal finger at Luke who opened his mouth but was apparently too weak to speak. "He will die. Soon." The stranger consulted a watch on his wrist and adjusted the thick horn-rimmed glasses that hid his eyes from view. "Someone should call the coroner and get the body out of here. Get him out. I don't want corpses to pollute my –"

Before he knew it Jess was out of his chair and pushed the man against the wall (against a poster asking people get their cholesterol-levels tested, a part of Jess' mind noticed absentmindedly), his elbow digging into the strangers throat.

"He will not die," Jess snarled, his voice charged with anger and fear. "He won't! He _won't_!"

The stranger laughed, a cold unpleasant sound that sent a chill down Jess' spine, and looked down on the young man revealing his cold, soulless eyes for the first time. "Why, Jessie," he said using Jess' childhood nickname. "He already is. He's fading."

His breath catching in his throat Jess' head flew around and indeed, Luke was looking more translucent by the second, the veins on his uncle's forehead clearly visible behind the deathly-pale skin. "No," Jess gasped and – releasing the stranger – ran back to Luke's side. "Don't go," he pleaded, too upset to care about keeping up any pretenses of strength or coolness. "Don't-"

Luke, who by now was as white as the sheets he lay on, opened his mouth, obviously straining to say something.

"Yes?" Jess asked, his voice breaking as he held on to Luke's weak hand as if his life depended on it. "Yes?"

Luke opened his mouth a second time and for a moment it seemed to Jess as if the harsh light of the hospital lamp shone right through his uncle.

"J-Jess?" Luke croaked his voice barely recognizable.

Jess leaned in closer, holding on tighter to Luke's hand, far beyond caring about the tears that ran over his cheeks. "Don't go," Jess whispered. "You're the only family I've got left. The only one who…" He swallowed and his voice broke. "The only one who _cares_."

A hint of a smile graced Luke's lips and the older man raised his hand to touch Jess' cheek in a paternal gesture, before grinning. "Jess, what…what makes you think I care?"

The younger man's insides turned to ice. "Wh-what?"

"I. Don't. Care. About. You," Luke repeated, a twisted smile distorting his features. "No one does. That's why we all leave." He started laughing, his frail body shaking, now fully translucent so that Jess could see the sheets shining through his uncle's body even though that was impossible a small rational part of his brain reminded him. This was impossible! It couldn't be!

"We're _all_ leaving you," Luke repeated, his mad laughter joined by the ominous doctor and, desperate to make it stop Jess leaned forward, trying to physically hold Luke back. To make him stay. To make the fading stop.

"It's not enough," Luke said between gales of laughter. "You'll never be enough."

And with these words, just like the flickering picture on a television screen Luke vanished, leaving Jess to stumble forward on the empty bed, screaming.

"Nooo!"

**oOo**

"Nooo!"

Jess' body shot forward into a sitting position, his eyes wide, panicked and disoriented, almost colliding with Rory who managed to evade him in the last second by stumbling back and almost landing on his legs.

"Jess," she gasped but he didn't seem to hear her, as he stared wildly around the room, his breath coming in labored gasps that clearly showed his agitation. "Jess," Rory repeated and within the fraction of a second all those years they hadn't seen each other and all the distance she thought they'd put between each other (physically and emotionally) vanished like the illusion it had always been.

Acting on pure instinct Rory reached out pulled him into a tight hug, not even pausing to wonder how natural the way he wrapped his arms around her body felt (in contrast to Jess, who seemed to stiffen for the fraction of a second before practically melting into their embrace). How _right _the way he hid his face in her hair felt and how utterly perfect the touch of his breath on her neck was.

Finding herself wrapped in Jess' arms again it seemed like the years fell away and for the present time Rory was more than willing to allow herself to be comforted by this little illusion. She tightened her embrace and breathed in his scent (all books and ink and coffee and _Jess_) and for the first time since she left for home Rory allowed herself a smile. It was too easy to pretend that this would last. That they were back to being teenagers, trying to sneak in some quality time whenever Luke or Lorelai weren't looking. Back when each hidden glance they shared and each stolen kiss meant the promise of a whole new world. Back when…Rory sighed and nestled deeper into Jess's arms, absentmindedly noticing that his breathing had calmed and his hands were no longer shaking. Apparently he, too, took a little out-time from reality, she thought and drew lazy circles on his back with her fingertips as his arms tightened around her and he made a content sound between a sigh and a purr.

Rory wasn't sure how long they'd sat there on her old bed, surrounded by her stuffed chicken and childhood memories but finally, after far too short a time, reality was no longer to be denied and ever so carefully she pulled back a little, coming face to face with Jess.

"Hi," Rory whispered, immediately missing the warmth he'd provided. Perhaps the long drive had worn her out more than she'd initially thought, she figured as she studied Jess' familiar and yet surprisingly new face.

"Hi," he replied equally softly and smiled and for a moment it seemed to Rory as if he was about to lean in and put his forehead against hers. However, the moment passed, leaving them in an awkward silence.

Rory smiled nervously, reluctant to move. "Hi," she said again and Jess' smile grew a bit wider.

"Hi," he said, eyes sparkling in a mischievous way she hadn't even known she'd missed.

"I said it first," Rory said, feeling far too aware of the way his arms were still loosely wrapped around her body.

"I said it second," Jess retorted with a lopsided grin, making Rory roll her eyes good-naturedly.

"Jess," she whispered, content to hold on to this unreal moment just a little longer.

"Hm?"

"What are you doing in my bed?"

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "What are you doing in my arms?"

Rory felt her face flush and pulled out of their embrace, finally putting a "decent" distance between them – just in time to miss the fleeting look of loss on Jess' face. "Better?" she asked.

"What if I said 'no'?"

Rory sighed. "Jess."

"Still here," he retorted, the smile fading a little.

"But why?"

"Because you're sitting on my legs, Rory," he reminded her softly, grinning despite himself as she shot up from her sitting position and backed off from the bed and the man who sat there in a tangle of sheets.

Suddenly self-conscious Rory wrapped her arms around herself (they were but a meager substitute for Jess' arms she thought before viciously suppressing that thought) and retreated further until she came to lean against her book shelves. With each step reality reasserted itself and the magical atmosphere that allowed them a bittersweet taste of reminiscence faded, finally leaving Rory to wonder what in the name of all that was sweet and caffeinated had made her act like that?

Jess, who was starting to get untangled (just what had he done with those sheets while sleeping to get them tangled up like that, Rory wondered absentmindedly) seemed to return to reality as well, looking thoughtful.

"Rory." He said, brushing his hair out of his face. "If you don't want to get a good look at my boxers I suggest you leave."

Rory nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching into an involuntary smile. "Well," she smirked, "I guess that settles _that _question."

"What question?"

"Never mind. I'll be in the kitchen. Something tells me that we both could do with a caffeine-infusion." With these words (and a final stolen glance at Jess' boxers – though Rory told herself it was pure coincidence that she turned around as he climbed out of bed) Rory turned and left, giving him some privacy.

**oOo**

"You know, I'm not sure if I want this sandwich after all," Kirk said, giving the tuna on his toast a mournful look. "Who's to say that the little fish here died a happy fish?" Kirk fixed his eyes on Luke who was feeling his patience ebbing away with each second. "Can you guarantee that this was a happy fish? Perhaps I'm eating-"

"Perhaps you're eating outside in a moment," Luke interrupted watching Kirk turn around with a curious expression on his face.

"But it's raining."

"All the better," Luke said. "The tuna will feel right at home with all the water."

Kirk seemed to give this some thought then turned back to Luke with a frown. "I'll get wet."

"Well-spotted," Luke replied with a deadpan voice and a roll of his eyes. 'Goodness, this morning is never going to end,' he thought in exasperation before giving Kirk a stern look. "Now you eat, pay and leave. Got it?"

Kirk looked offended but whatever the poor man thought of retorting was drowned out by a heart-wrenching plea for coffee, uttered by the woman who just came in.

Kirk closed his mouth again with an audible 'snap' knowing full well that Luke's attention would be held by none other than Lorelai even if he, Kirk, were to strip and perform a salsa on the counter. No actually, Kirk thought wearing a pensive expression _that _might just do the trick. But it was cold. And there were the small shredded remains of fish on toast to be eaten.

Apologizing silently to Nemo and his brethren Kirk decided to settle into the inevitable and bit into his toast.

**oOo**

"Coffee!" Lorelai demanded and slumped down at the counter, her eyes trailing Luke's every movement, looking for a weakness, hesitancy or hidden agony. It figured that the stubborn man would find a way to open the diner despite the fact that he should be resting. "Coffee," she repeated, more sternly this time.

"The name is Luke. And you should try tea for a change."

"I know," Lorelai huffed, "And _you_ should try listening to the doctor for a change."

They held each other's gaze for a moment in a silent battle of stubbornness before Luke, in the full knowledge that no living being on this planet had a chance of out-staring Miss Lorelai Gilmore, sighed in resignation and turned to fetch the desired beverage.

"So," Lorelai said once she'd taken the first sip. "Where's Caesar?"

"Home, I guess."

"Why?"

"Because I sent him there."

"Why?" Lorelai persisted.

"Because he's not needed here right now."

"But he is."

"No, he isn't."

"Yes, he is."

"Nope."

"No 'nope'," Lorelai said with conviction making Luke raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Did you just agree with me?" he asked, startled as his world-view started to shatter. Lorelai did not agree with him once they got into an argument. It was one of their unwritten rules.

"No, I didn't," Lorelai clarified, shaking her head.

"But you just said 'no, nope.' You agreed with me _twice._"

"No. That's a double negative which makes it positive again." Lorelai said triumphantly and took another sip of coffee, leaving Luke to stare at her in confusion. It was, however, once again Kirk who came to his rescue and saved Luke from further confusion.

"Mayonnaise," Kirk said authoritatively, earning raised eyebrows from both Luke and Lorelai before they turned back to each other.

"Don't forget the appointment at the doctor's at twelve o'clock, will you?" Lorelai reminded Luke who looked vaguely mutinous at the prospect.

"I can't since you're reminding me all the time," Luke pouted, handing the mayonnaise to Kirk who'd been making frantic gestures all the while.

Lorelai nodded in satisfaction. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Do you think I need a babysitter?"

She grinned. "Honestly? Yes."

Luke looked offended and waved Kirk off who approached again. "Who's going to look after the diner when I'm gone? Ceasar is leaving for his relatives in Miami and it's the lunch rush. I can't leave," Luke concluded with a self-satisfied smile as Kirk, having moved over to join them impatiently waved the mayonnaise bottle under the other man's nose.

"It won't open," Kirk whined and Luke took it with an annoyed sigh. "Go and sit down, Kirk. I'll bring you the mayonnaise in a minute," he said, shooing Kirk who'd been listening in with a rapt expression on his face, away.

"You're forgetting Jess," Lorelai reminded Luke once Kirk was gone. "That's why he's here. To do the menial work."

Luke shook his head, still struggling with the bottle. Why wouldn't it open? "Jess," he gasped, "Jess can't – he doesn't know how everything works."

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "Now correct me if I'm wrong but didn't he keep the fort so to speak on other occasions, too?"

Luke winced as the mayonnaise bottle obviously won their struggle. "He'll get into trouble. The toaster is broken."

"You mean the toaster Jess fixes every time he's here?"

Luke deflated, seeing all his reasons to stay at the diner disappearing from sight. Fact was, Luke admitted, that Jess was more than capable of handling the diner as long as the kid kept a firm grip on his temperament. Fact was also that the aforementioned fact made Luke expendable for a certain amount of time – say, for the time he needed to go to the hospital, get tested again and get some rest – and that did not sit well with Luke. What he needed was an argument. "Ah!" he said triumphantly as it occurred to him. "Have you _seen _him?"

Lorelai gave him a concerned look. "I brought him over, remember?"

"Yes," Luke nodded, his grip around the mayonnaise bottle loosening while the stupid thing insisted on staying closed. "He can't come here looking like that."

"Like what?"

"Scruffy. Unshaven."

Lorelai took a sip of her coffee, an incredulous look on her face. "He's going for the tortured artist look. It's 'in'. He looks like he's going to write America's next great novel."

"He looks like he's going to herd sheep." Luke snorted and pulled at the bottle again as Lorelai finally lost her patience and took the mayonnaise out of his hands, opening it with ease.

"Luke," she said, concern creeping into her voice once more. "It opened easily. Why?"

Catching Luke's fleeting look of worry Lorelai quickly reached over the counter and took his hand. "Press."

He looked confused. "Excuse me?"

"Press my hands."

"Are you insane?"

"Luke." Lorelai said firmly and he finally gave in and squeezed. Or tried to as all he was able to do was put a gentle pressure on Lorelai's hands. "Is that-? Can't you press any harder?"

Their eyes met over the counter, showing an equal amount of worry. "Call Jess," Luke finally whispered, unconsciously holding on to Lorelai's hands. Things had officially just gotten scary.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm afraid the characters once again did what they wanted, so that the "Latin Lover"-scene must be pushed into the next chapter. Don't worry, though, it's definitely planned into this fic.

Also, we get the diagnosis!


	6. This City Is Made Of Crazy

**Disclaimer**: All characters and situations from _Gilmore Girls_ are properties of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund/Polone in association with Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: **A great great Thank You to my lovely reviewers! I'm very sorry I've left you waiting for so long but I may have just broken my own personal record on how often I can re-write a scene until I'm marginally satisfied with it, namely the horror that is the "diagnosis-scene". Once again. Thank you all so very much for your support. I really appreciate it :)

* * *

**Chapter 05**

* * *

**This City Is Made Of Crazy **

* * *

_"Crazy people. Whole town should be medicated and put in a rec room with ping pong tables and hand puppets" _– Luke in Sadie, Sadie (season 02)

* * *

**oOo**

Taylor Doose was not a bad man. He was a visionary, a man with a dream. An engineer of the future he would have said if someone had asked him but the truth of the matter was that no one did thus leaving Taylor no other choice but to resort to internal monologues, depriving the world of flights of eloquence.

As it was, on this particular morning, shortly after two old lovers met again under such unexpected – and scandalous, as Taylor would have said if he knew! – circumstances and exactly as Miss Lorelai Gilmore pulled into a parking spot near Mercy hospital in Hartford (snatching it up right under the nose of an agitated middle-aged man) Taylor Doose, in full knowledge of his own importance crossed the street from his market to Luke's diner, engaged in a silent debate with himself.

'Taylor,' he said to himself, 'You are not a bad man. You do not wish ill upon your fellow men – even if they belong to the particularly ghastly species of anti-social diner-owners. In fact, Taylor, my man,' he told himself, smiling benevolently, 'You are an extraordinarily good citizen and thus completely deserving of the gift fate decided to bestow on you,' Taylor thought, feeling very eloquent. Indeed, he didn't wish Luke to fall ill – he truly didn't – but that didn't change the fact that the visionary in him immediately recognized the opportunity connected with that regrettable fact. Taylor knew full well that if Luke's illness was even half as bad as it seemed to be the other man wouldn't be able to work at the diner anymore. In fact, it seemed clear as the sky (which was unusually cloudy today but Taylor ignored that fact in favor of his little metaphor) that before long Luke was heading for bankruptcy, abandoned by health and family and quite possibly heading toward alcoholism.

Was it not, Taylor thought, under these circumstances downright gallant of him to offer Luke a way out? Now before the poor man ruined himself?

Taylor stopped for a moment, taken with his altruism and smiled benevolently. He was going to offer Luke a good prize for the diner – a prize that allowed Luke to live on a modest pension - while he, Taylor, was going to seize the opportunity and open up that candy shop he'd been dreaming of for years.

Thus lost in his delusions, his thoughts filled with countless shelves holding candy wrapped in colorful paper, Taylor Doose entered Luke's diner, intent on taking his first step into the future.

Which he did – just not in the way he planned to.

**oOo**

"Danes."

Luke looked up from his hands which he had folded in his lap, eyeing them suspiciously. How could it be that his own body betrayed him? Goodness knew, he'd been good to this body – he ate healthily, spent a decent amount of time outside, made sure he got enough movement to keep his muscles fit and indulged in no – well, he guiltily admitted as he gazed at Lorelai who'd never left his side since picking him up at home and forcefully dragging him to the hospital – in _almost _no guilty pleasures.

"Daaaaaaanes," the voice insisted and turning around to face its source Luke found himself confronted with the walrus-mustached nightmare-ish nurse that had wheeled him through the hospital during his previous visit. He opened his mouth to reply but she was faster.

"Examination room two, sweetheart," the nurse said and pursed her lips in disapproval. She obviously remembered the amount of fight he put up when she tried to get a blood sample. Feeling irrationally amused about the fact that he'd annoyed her, Luke got up and gave her an impertinent grin that almost hid the growing anxiety that had his stomach in a tight knot.

Nurse Walrus merely rolled her eyes impatiently and gestured toward the door. "Sometime today if you please, honey."

However, before Luke had a chance to reply Lorelai took matters – which in this case turned out to be consist of his hand – into hers and determinedly marched off toward the aforementioned room, eager to get the inevitable over with.

"But-" Luke tried to protest but was interrupted by Lorelai.

"Come on, already."

Reluctantly he followed her into the examination room where a distinctly disheveled-looking Dr. Martinek was rummaging wildly in a stack of papers, looking for all the world more like the inmate of an asylum with his hair sticking up crazily in every direction than the venerable medical practitioner they knew him to be.

Moments passed in relative silence, broken only by the rustling of paper and yet Dr. Martinek remained oblivious, his attention captured solely by a piece of paper which he now studied with rapt fascination, nodding his head every now and then in approval and muttering 'indeed, indeed' or 'excellent point!' under his breath.

"The man's obviously occupied," Luke whispered after regarding the physician critically for a moment, leaning toward Lorelai. "We better leave him to his work. Let's come back another time."

That, however, did not sit well with Lorelai who stuck out her bottom lip in a gesture reminiscent of a pout with more than a hint of steely determination.

"Dr. Martinek," she said in a loud voice, effectively catching the other man's attention. That effectively in fact, that the poor man shot up from his slightly crouching position as if he'd been shot, smashed his knee on the desk in the process and promptly – in a vain attempt to keep himself from toppling over completely – sent a decent amount of papers flying to the floor.

"See what you did now?" Luke whispered, pointing at Martinek who held his hand to his heart as if recovering from a heart attack.

"Well, you…you startled me," the young doctor finally said, smiling apologetically as Luke and Lorelai joined him in picking up the papers.

"I'm sorry," Luke apologized. "I said we should come back later but – what's this?" He quizzically held up a piece of paper – incidentally the very paper Martinek had been reading previously though Luke had no chance of knowing that.

However, before the great mystery could be revealed Lorelai cleared her throat, barely suppressed nervousness making her voice a notch higher than usual. "I believe you've got a diagnosis for us, doctor?"

"Yes," Martinek replied, putting the last papers on the desk in an untidy heap where they were perched dangerously close to the edge of the desk. "Mind you, it's not one-hundred percent sure but it's…let's say…I'm very – _very- _sure about this. The tests indicate it very clearly." He pushed his glasses up his pale nose and gestured toward a couple of x-ray images on a screen.

"You see," he said, indicating the joints of the hands and feet that were displayed on the image, "We have cause to believe that the crux of the problem lies with the joints, more precisely the interphalangeal joints of the hands and feet."

Luke and Lorelai blinked.

"Do you care to translate that?" Lorelai asked, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Of course," Martinek said immediately and pointed toward the x-ray image once more. "It concerns the joints of the fingers and the toes that enable you to bend them. Now we can't say for sure at this point since it's still very early and the damage is fortunately still minimal, but the fuzzy transition from joint to joint space indicates a reduction of bone probably induced by inflammation but we can't say that for sure since there needs to be a minimum of damage so it can be diagnosed via x-ray which, fortunately at this point, we do not have." Martinek finished, looked expectantly into their blank faces. "Any questions so far?"

"Erm…" Luke wrinkled his forehead. "What…what do I have? What's the diagnosis?"

"Didn't I say it? Oh." Martinek's shoulders slumped as he realized that indeed he hadn't done that. "With a very high probability you suffer from rheumatoid arthritis."

"No," Lorelai said, her voice deceivingly calm.

"Yes," the doctor insisted. "All the tests indicate it. Mr.Danes even shows the rheumatoid factor in the blood sample, so I'd say we're talking a probability of at least ninety-eight percent. Which reminds me, Mr. Danes, you may want to talk to your family. There might be a hereditary factor involved so they should test their blood, too. Mrs. Danes, is there anything you want to add?" he asked, reacting to Lorelai who shook her head vehemently.

"This can't be right! He's.." She looked at Luke, a mixture of despair and tenderness in her gaze. "He's too young and he's…he's _male,_ for goodness sake! Only old women get this and I can attest that Luke is a fully-functional _man_."

A moment of silence followed that statement wherein Luke's face slowly but surely turned a lovely shade of maroon. "Thank you, Lorelai," he finally said. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

Lorelai, nonchalant as ever, merely shrugged. "My pleasure."

"Well," Martinek interjected, desperately trying to regain the upper hand. "Now that we cleared up Mr. Danes gender, allow me to correct you Mrs. Danes: while you're right that it's _usually _women between forty and fifty and upwards who suffer from rheumatoid arthritis unfortunately the disease is not limited to them. That means that men can get it and younger people can get it, too though I do admit that this is an unusual occurrence. The thing is, Mrs. Danes, is _does _happen." He leaned forward, looking sad and compassionate. "It did and now that we're almost sure of the diagnosis we can talk about the next steps. Treatments, medication, etc."

Still, Lorelai shook her head in denial. "But…but the pain. I've never heard of sudden pain attacks connected with rheumatism. Are you sure it's nothing…" she trailed off, afraid to voice her concerns.

"Yes, we're sure," Martinek reassured her. "I've been over the results with several of my colleagues and though we'll have to monitor the course of the disease it's highly unlikely that it's anything worse."

"Huh." Luke huffed. "Nothing more than my joints gradually destroying themselves? Lucky me. Let's throw a party," he growled, though his voice shook ever so slightly. How could this be happening? What had he done wrong to deserve _this_? He'd always been an independent man, he'd always gotten along on his own and now? What if it went on? What if it got worse? Would he lose the use of his hands? Would his joints gradually destroy themselves, leaving him useless and … _dependant_?

Luke shuddered. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he thought desperately. It was _he_ who took care of people. It was _he _who made things right and who provided the proverbial rock in a storm. He couldn't…what would happen if…what…

Suddenly Luke felt a hand on his cheek and Lorelai forced his attention back to the present. "Luke," she whispered as Dr. Martinek tactfully retreated a few steps, busying himself with Luke's patient's chart. "We can do this. We will."

And all of a sudden all the baggage between them seemed to fall away, all of the misunderstandings and the fears that led to those misunderstandings, leaving them with nothing but the bare fact that yes, they did care for each other and come heaven or hell – he would not be facing this alone. And for the first time since he'd been suffering from the pain attacks Luke felt hope. Things would be all right. Not perfect perhaps, but tolerable for Lorelai would be with him (and by now he felt that he knew this without the slightest hint of a doubt) then everything would be fine. Better even, he thought with a sad smile. If this was the price he had to pay to have her in his life, Luke figured, then he'd gladly give up the use of all his joints and throw in some bones, too, for good measure. Not that he was too keen on that.

Carefully, as if his very touch could make her disappear, Luke cupped Lorelai's cheek in his hand. "We'll do this," he agreed, then smiled mischievously. "Mrs. Danes."

**oOo**

In retrospect, Jess figured, he should have known that things were going too well. After his rather pleasant awakening he'd shared a cup of coffee with Rory and though they'd sat in an uncomfortable silence (after all, how was he to know that this wasn't just a small visit to see her mother and Luke before she went off to her personal prince charming again?), honoring their unspoken agreement to act as if the magical moment of bittersweet reunion had not been anything more but an insubstantial dream, overall things could have been worse. _Far _worse.

Instead, Rory made a hasty retreat to her bedroom where she wanted to catch up on some sleep (and quite unbeknownst to Jess enjoyed the smell of his hair on her pillow for a while before drifting off) while he grabbed a few books and headed toward the diner.

Upon arriving at his destination Jess found himself involved in a surprisingly friendly conversation with Gypsy who seemed to have decided some time ago that a man who worked so much to own and keep a car can't be all that bad. In the end she left him with the promise of attempting to re-animate his dying car at the first opportunity and a friendly smile. Perhaps things would turn out all right in the end. Well, perhaps not all right since this _was _Stars Hollow (or, as Jess dubbed it in a joking little reference to Washington Irving's short story – Sleepy Hollow), but things might actually be…acceptable.

And that was when the door opened and Taylor strolled in as if he owned the place, wearing a ridiculous hat and a benevolent smile that looked so angelic that it could only be fake.

Jess froze, the dripping coffee filters in hand and swore under his breath. That was just what he'd needed – Taylor. The man's mere presence had an effect on him that was not unlike the scraping of fingernails on a blackboard. Plus, Jess had to admit, that either due to his own personal mischievous tendency or a strange genetic quirk he seemed to share with Luke Taylor had the uncanny ability to bring out the worst in him.

His nemesis, however, oblivious of the danger he found himself in marched into the middle of the diner and puffed out his chest importantly.

"Has any one seen the owner of this diner?" he asked pompously while Jess discarded the filters and leaned forward on the counter. This was going to be interesting.

Taylor, looking around and noticing that no one seemed to pay him enough attention puffed his chest out even more (a feat Jess had thought impossible), his face turning slightly purple in the process. "Good people! Does anyone know-"

"Come off it, Taylor, we're not in the sixteenth century." Miss Patty interrupted him, waving a hand that glittered with rings and bracelets at him. "Say what you've got to say and then move. You're blocking the view," she giggled and Jess suppressed the sudden urge to hide behind the counter. Ever since Miss Patty, a woman well-known for her amorous tendencies and her lack of realism, first set her eyes on him moments after he took over from Caesar, her face had broke into a dangerous grin and she proclaimed in a voice that he was sure carried the news at least to New York if not even Timbuktu that "Rory's Latin Lover" had returned. She'd devoured him with her eyes ever since.

However, as luck had it Miss Patty had apparently found the one person who hadn't heard the news yet – Taylor, who looked at her with wide eyes, swelling with self-importance. "I see style is wasted on you," he huffed, looking crushed at this ignorance. "So, where's Luke?"

"Not here." Miss Patty informed him and tried to shoo him away. However, Taylor would have none of it.

"I can see that. So _where _is he?"

She shrugged, her multitude of necklaces following the movement. "How should I know? With Lorelai, I suppose. They've been awfully close lately, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't care about gossip." Taylor rolled his eyes and turned around. "Caesar get me a - YOU!"

Jess grinned and waved. "Hello."

"You-" Taylor spluttered upon being confronted with one of his personal nightmares. "You…you're _not _Caesar!"

Jess eyes went wide in an exaggerated expression of shock and he touched his chest in confusion. "I'm _not?_"

Taylor narrowed his eyes and advanced. "I _know _what you're doing here."

"It's fairly obvious, isn't it?"

"You can't fool me!" Taylor snarled, jabbing a finger at Jess who shrugged.

"There go my nefarious plans for world domination."

The finger in front of Jess' nose trembled but didn't move any closer. "I'm keeping my eye on you, boy," Taylor threatened and this time Jess couldn't suppress a grin.

"I'm flattered but seriously – you're not my type."

Taylor blinked for a moment, then – as realization hit – snatch back his finger as if he'd been burned. "When the diner is mine," he growled, "_You'll _be the first one to go."

The smile slid off Jess' face and he put the book he'd idly picked up aside – a sign of danger is there ever was one. "You will never own the diner."

"We'll see about that, son." Taylor allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. "How do you think Luke will be able to run the diner if he's ill? I'm doing him a _favor_, boy. A favor!"

The book was slammed down on the counter. "Out," Jess whispered but carried away by his enthusiasm Taylor didn't recognize the warning in his voice and rambled on, trying to convince the obstinate kid that he really was doing Luke a favor. Why didn't the selfish brat understand that?

"-only doing good by buying it before he's too incapacitated to run it. Look, I'm not a-"

"Taylor," Jess breathed, clutching the counter hard. "I promised Luke not to get into trouble so _please _be so kind and remove yourself from the diner before I do something stupid." Such as starting a fight in the middle of the diner despite knowing better, he finished mentally, counting to ten. He wasn't a wild teenager anymore, Jess reminded himself and he was very proud of the way he'd learned to keep his temper in check but this – this was his weakness. Taylor threatened his uncle, his _family. _

Jess looked up and glared at Taylor and something in the young man's eyes seemed to get the message across and Taylor, muttering something of delinquents and lunatics under his breath turned to leave. However, he could not forsake his post without leaving Jess with at least one dark threat: "The Stars Hollow Neighborhood Watch Organization will keep an eye…" he stopped and looked flustered for a moment before he rephrased. "You…take care!" Pointing a warning finger at Jess Taylor turned in a huff to make his dramatic departure but unfortunately his foot got tangled up in Miss Patty's long robe sending him (along with Miss Patty who promptly started complaining about sexual assault) to the floor before he finally – _finally –_ managed to flee.

**o **

Jess' released a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding, incredibly relieved that this had gone over without any amount of substantial damage. Not counting the fact that he'd just made an enemy, of course.

"Jess?" a voice interrupted his thoughts and the young man looked up.

"Yes, Morey."

"Did the counter offend you?"

Jess looked down on his hands which still held the edge of the counter in a death grip. "Hm," he said in a variation of his trademark expression and carefully loosened his fingers.

Morey shrugged, a smile playing around his lips. "Would have hated to be the counter right now."

Jess sighed. "Is there anything I can do for you, Morey?"

The other man looked back over his shoulder at Miss Patty and Babette who had their heads together in conversation. "No," he shrugged. "I think they're done now."

"Done doing what?"

Morey grinned, displaying a wolfish smile. "Oh, they were betting whether you would hit him or not."

Jess groaned in response as Morey, in the very best of moods, turned to leave.

"Jess?" Morey hesitated for a moment.

"Huh?"

"A word of advice. If you want to have a good life here in Stars Hollow –" Morey lowered his voice, looking authoritatively. "Stay away from Babette's garden gnomes."

Jess rubbed the bridge of his nose as if in pain. They were all insane here.

* * *

**Preview: **Almost everyone has a nefarious plan and Rory makes a decision. Oh, and we find out what was written on Dr. Martinek's paper. 


End file.
